Masked
by ADoubtfulGuest
Summary: The mind is so easy to trick. Have you ever heard the saying 'things are not what they appear to be? ..Series of drabbles.. Chapter two: "We paint our sins on the ceiling, I keep them glued to my chest." A/H, sometimes.
1. Chapter 1

She realizes that the worst part is that she's done this to herself. As the creator of his best side, she can easily say that he is the mirror of her desire.

Unfortunately, she has not been shaped so accordingly.

It's as if she's forgotten to cut slits in the mask so she can _see. _Masquerading around as someone else is all very nice . . . But only until you run into the one whose face you've borrowed.

Of course, by that time her past seems foggy. She can't seem to remember who she was before he gifted her with the disguise.

**A/N: **Exactly one hundred words. Yay? Anyway, as of yesterday I'm another year older, but apparently I'm no better having my ideas make sense. Oh well. If someone can tell me the song that inspired this, I'll write them a oneshot.

Hints: It's a Taking Back Sunday song, and you're best off looking at the second sentence to figure it out.

It belongs to Eoin Colfer :)


	2. I want some good COFFEE Really

There are things that he doesn't tell anyone. He likes the way that the thoughts feel when they hibernate in his head, never to be written down or spoken aloud. It all started with the feeling of the magic slipping through his fingers, and it lead to a chain of events that were just as physically and mentally unreachable. Intriguing.

Like the way it feels to sit in the wet grass, hiding from the searchlights behind the mausoleum, mawkish and shaking. He doesn't remember what type of flowers they are, or where to place them in the maze of gravestones.

He can't put into words the irony of being kissed in a field of carved poems that dictate true love lost.

He only knows that it no longer feels like breaching a barrier between worlds. There are too many walls that they've set up for themselves, and they tumble down like gravel around their feet. Like headstones that never got their sad poems or bittersweet titles. He lets the wilting petals fall from his unconsciously tight grip as the palpable remorse burns every bridge.

He lays the flowers down upon every dead rule that lies six feet under the sky.

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**A/N: **Two hundred words exactly! This one is for LookingGlass122, who got the last trivia right. It was based on Taking Back Sunday's song One-Eighty by Summer. "She says 'Live up to your first impressions,' well my best side was your worst invention." Yay. This one is so easy that I shouldn't even give you a hint. No, it's not Six Feet Under the Stars. I'll be sad if no one gets it . . . Next one will be three hundred words and dedicated to the one that gets this right.

The summary is from Taking Back Sunday's Set Phasers to Stun. :D


	3. Farrel, you crazy!

Nobody believes him when he says that he's dangerous. Danger is taken so lightly, a ghost story, a fibber's delight. It's only too late. The closet is too full to hide in; not that anyone sees him coming.

It means nothing to see a man with your own eyes anymore.

They act as though they can see straight through him, translucent and placid. It makes him want to scream, to take what's left of his heart and hollow it out into a sound that they can't ignore.

_I'm right under your nose. Right under your eyes. Right under your bed._

He's a coward, too afraid to sacrifice his own blood to satisfy the cravings of those that lie dead due to his faults. Anyone's blood will do; it's all the same. It all stains.

_I'm bleeding for you, now. Everything we've done for each other is lost in time, now. _

Part of him is still the same. He still likes to get into their heads, to step on the conscience of a victim until it needs treatment and then relieve the pain. Of course, his own conscience has long since retired in search for a more suitable host.

He's the magic man; his words get him crowds, and his crowds arouse his hatred. His hatred fuels his revenge, though he doesn't quite know whom he's seeking vengeance on.

_Not space._

The cycle of his days is a trope for everything he regrets not doing, it's the salvation that he looks to when he can see the past too clearly for his own good. It's sacrilegious to deny the bloodlust that fills his memories.

He's the reason that you lock the doors behind you and then unlock them for fear of what you've caged yourself in with.

He's a ghost story.

_Time. _

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A/N:

Yay chapter three? This is for **xxeviexx** because she got the last prompt. 'Cemetery Drive' by My Chemical Romance. I thought it was pretty obvious. This one is even more obvious . . . Although I'm not sure the band is too well known . . . The first and second italic lines should help. Eve's not allowed to guess, because I was talking to her about this song yesterday ;)

Thanks to my beta, **hopelily**, for fixing all of the mistakes that I make. Grammar tends to elude me when I write; possibly because I write at one o'clock in the morning . . .

So, shall I continue?

The next one will be for whoever guess the song that this is based off of, as always. By the way**, exactly 300 words**. Do you see a pattern? Well, I don't.


End file.
